


what time Damien saves on bathroom breaks he loses to being fucked in disused rooms

by electronic_elevator



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Cumming in diapers, Diapers, Dom/sub Undertones, Incontinence, Omorashi, Other, POV Second Person, Public Play, grinding on someone's leg, light degradation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: You could tell that Damien was wetting himself during a meeting. After getting him alone, the two of you make the most of that.(Disclaimer: Okay, so, he doesn't technically getfuckedthis time.)
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	what time Damien saves on bathroom breaks he loses to being fucked in disused rooms

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhhhh. HHHHHHHH. That’s all I have to say at this time. (Also, I will not be taking constructive criticism on my title.)

You were close enough that you heard it. Close enough in the physical sense, but really the emotional sense should be only somewhat less important — it’s fair to say that someone else, who didn’t know about Damien’s incontinence and who hadn’t been around someone who uses diapers, might not be able to place the dull, wet roar of piss splattering into padding. 

And, hopefully you were right about that, as at least two other officials were about your distance from the mayor, who had stumbled over his words just momentarily when he felt himself lose control and begin wetting with surprising force. Falling silent wouldn’t do — firstly, it would make it easier to hear, and secondly, it would let the present company know something was wrong. But it was a little hard for him to keep speaking as he felt his diaper swelling between his legs, growing hotter and heavier. It was more slowly and with more “um”s and “ah”s that he finished talking, only slightly before he finished wetting.

The others didn’t seem to notice, quickly moving on; Damien looked at you nervously, sheepishly. You couldn’t help but smile, because he’s awful cute when he’s embarrassed, which of course gave away that it _was_ noticeable, at least to you. The poor thing went a little pale, glancing at the others. No one but you had noticed, though. His little secret was still safe.

* * *

A while later, after the meeting adjourned, you had the chance to follow him to a room where it was truly just the two of you. After locking the door, you advanced on him with a glint in your eye and an edge to your tone. “Awwww, did you fill your diaper up in front of everybody? Poor Damien just couldn’t hold it… you must be soaked!” 

Damien hadn’t actually been thinking about the incident anymore, and so hadn’t expected you to be in this kind of mood, but the effect was immediate. He backed up a step, turning cherry red. Your degrading words had his heartbeat picking up and his dick twinging in his wet padding. After a moment, he spoke up — voicing a legitimate concern, but mostly to get you to talk more, to degrade him further. “But they— you don’t think they would know, right?” 

“I don’t know…” you said, making your tone doubtful. “You should’ve seen yourself, stumbling over your words. You were so nervous. It must be awful hard to think while you’re flooding your pants, huh? But, they certainly wouldn’t assume you — someone who’s supposed to be an adult, and a public official no less — would be doing such a thing.” 

Damien swallowed. You’d advanced on him again, and now stood staring cooly at him from a few inches away; he had trouble holding your gaze, but tried his best — when his gaze faltered, it was to the door that you’d assured was locked. (And he knew that, but he couldn’t help feeling nervous. That was part of the fun of doing this sort of thing at work, of course.) 

“But you were. Maybe they were nice enough to ignore it — you’re already so pathetic; it’d really be shame on them to tease someone like you.” You put your hand on his crotch, squeezing gently to feel how wet he was, and Damien gave a little whine as the sodden padding shifted around his half-hard dick. “You’re certainly awfully wet after your big accident back there, but I think I feel something else. What’s got you so excited, Damien?” Damien looked down, embarrassed, and leaned into you as you kept rubbing against his diaper. You made a sound of mock-disapproval, tilting your head to speak softer, nearer to his ear. “You should be ashamed — almost caught wetting your diapers and you get _excited_ about it, is that it?” 

The both of you knew exactly what it was, of course — his wetting, and the way you talked to him, and his diapers, and how you were jacking him off through them. It was all of it, but you wanted to hear him say it. 

Still subtly hiding his face from you, he went for the easiest piece. “No, it just feels good — y-your touch,” he murmured. 

“But you were getting hard _before_ I touched you. Maybe we should stop a minute and see what was causing it before, if you won’t tell me.” 

“No,” Damien whined. He forced himself to continue despite the humiliation surging through him and despite the fear that someone (other than you) could hear him, somehow. “Please, don’t stop— It’s my diapers, too. They’re still warm and wet and it feels good around my cock. Especially when you t-touch me through them. Please…” 

He was practically clinging to you, and you loved it. “You’re so cute, Damien,” you cooed. “You’ve already soaked yourself but you wanna cum all over yourself, too, don’t you?” 

Damien whined again, nodding, and rolled his hips forward into your hand once, then (realizing he should’ve asked) looked at you again. “May I… do that? _Please,_ it feels so good,” he managed, so quietly. 

You leaned in, kissing his jaw and neck, making him sigh with pleasure as he tried to stay still until he was given permission. After a moment, in between kisses, you murmured, “Since you’re so polite. But wait, this’ll work better for you in those thick diapers.” You withdrew your hand and, to the tune of a little whine of need, slotted your knee in between his legs. “Go on.” 

With a quiet whimper, Damien rolled his hips again, adjusting to find the angle that felt best in this position. Soon, he’d slipped into a proper rhythm, rutting against you as his breaths grew increasingly ragged on top of the dull, rustling crinkle of his plastic pants. 

Of course you pointed that out. “So desperate so quickly. Do you hear that crinkling, Damien? Maybe you hid your accident, but anybody who saw us right now would know exactly what you’re wearing, not to mention what you’re doing.” He didn’t respond beyond a groan of pleasure. 

The only downside to being diapered at a time like this, Damien thought, was the muffling effect — he either had to work harder or wait longer to cum. (At least, theoretically, as if the eroticism of being stimulated in a wet diaper in a secluded room while still at work while you talked down to him wasn’t more than enough to make up for it.)

“Oh, but needy looks so pretty on you, darling one.” You went back to kissing and sucking near his mouth — never covering his lips, because you loved his noises. 

Soon after, he repeated, “ _Please,_ ” notably breathier than before.

“Please what, pretty boy? You’re not ready to cum _already_ , are you?”

“N-no, but I want to, so bad— Y/N— please make me cum—!” The way he clutched onto you mirrored the urgency in his hushed voice.

“Oh, listen to _you_. You really aren’t ashamed! Not that you can’t control your bladder well enough to avoid peeing in your pants, and not that you’d stay in your own filth if it means you have something warm and wet to grind against. Is that right, Damien?”

“ _No,_ ” Damien insisted, voice pinched with humiliation. 

“No?” you repeated, disbelieving and mocking. “So you _are_ ashamed that you still have to use your diapers like a toddler because you can’t make it to a toilet?” 

“Y-yes,” he said in a small voice, because he _was_ but, fuck, that was part of it. Subconsciously, he leaned in even closer to you, so you couldn’t easily reach him for kisses any more. “ _Fuck,_ Y/N, I’m so close— please— I _k-know_ it’s shameful but, f-fuck, it feels so good—“ 

“It’s okay,” you said, sicky-sweet. “It’s just one more way you can’t control yourself, right? I won’t tell anyone you’re just a diaper boy behind all that fancy dress and smooth talk. Go ahead, Damien; fill up your diaper again.” 

Damien gave a whine that twisted into a moan as a few more thrusts finally brought him over the edge. He shot his load into his already-well-used diaper. You held him steady, watching with great love the way his still-blushing face relaxed, desperate humiliation turning to hazy pleasure. His head settled on your shoulder, and you kissed his temple gently. 

You’d stay like that until Damien felt steadier and more settled, and then you’d help him get changed before you both had to get back to work. (Perhaps Damien would be interested in coming home with you for proper cuddles after 5 o’clock rolled around.)


End file.
